John Newton’s Letters

Seven letters to a Christian friend

September 17, 1776.

My dear Madam,

We are much indebted to you for your kind thoughts of us. Hitherto I feel no uneasiness about what is before me; but I am afraid my tranquility does not wholly spring from trust in the Lord, and submission to his will—but that a part of it at least is derived from the assurances which my physician gave me, that my operation would be neither difficult nor dangerous. I have not much of the hero in my constitution. If in great pains or sharp trials I should ever show a befitting fortitude—it must be given me from above. I desire to leave all with him—in whose hands my ways are—and who has promised me strength according to my day.

I rejoice that the Lord has not only made you desirous of being useful to others in their spiritual concerns—but has given you in some instances to see, that your desires and attempts have not been in vain. I shall thankfully accept of the commission you are pleased to offer me, and take a pleasure in perusing any papers you may think proper to put into my hands, and offer you my sentiments with that sincerity which I am persuaded will be much more agreeable to you than compliments. Though I know there is in general a delicacy and difficulty in services of this kind, yet with respect to yourself I seem to have nothing to fear.

I have often wished we had more female pens employed in the service of the sanctuary. in the article of essay writing, I think many women are qualified to succeed better than most men, having a peculiar easiness of style, which few of us can imitate. I remember you once showed me a paper, together with the corrections and alterations proposed by a gentleman whose opinion you had asked. I thought his corrections had injured it, and given it an air of stiffness which is often observable when learned men write in English. Grammatical rules, as they are called, are wholly derived from the mode of speaking or writing which obtains among those who best understand the language; for the language must be supposed established before any grammar can be made for it; and therefore women who, from the course of their education and life, have had an opportunity of reading the best written books, and conversing with those who speak well, though they do not burden themselves with the formality of grammar, have often more skill in the English language than the men who can call every figure of speech by a Latin or Greek name. You may be sure, Madam, I shall not wish your papers suppressed, merely because they were not written by a learned man. Language and style, however, are but the dress. Trifles, however adorned—are trifles still. A person of spiritual discernment would rather be the author of one page written in the humble garb of Bunyan, upon a serious subject, than to be able to rival the sprightliness and elegance of Lady Montague, unless it could be with a view to edification.

The subjects you propose are important; and with respect to all devotional exercises so called, I perfectly agree with you, that, to be affecting and useful, they must be dictated rather by the heart than by the head; and are most likely to influence others, when they are the fruits and transcripts of our own experience. So far as I know, we are but scantily provided with specimens of this sort in print, and therefore I shall be glad to see an accession to the public stock.

Your other thought of helps to recollection on Saturday evenings, is, I think, an attempt in which none have been beforehand with you. So that, according to the general appearance, I feel myself disposed to encourage you to do as you have purposed. On the other hand, if I meet with anything, on the perusal of the papers, which in my view may seem to need alteration, I will freely and faithfully point it out.

I can almost smile now—to think you once classed me among the Stoics. If I dare speak with confidence of myself in anything, I think I may lay claim to a little of that pleasing, painful thing—sensibility. I need not boast of it; for it has too often been my snare, my sin, and my punishment. Yet I would be thankful for a spice of it, as the Lord’s gift, and when rightly exercised it is valuable; and I think I should make but an awkward minister without it, especially here. Where there is this sensibility in the natural temper, it will give a tincture or cast to our religious expression. Indeed I often find this sensibility weakest—where it should be strongest; and have reason to reproach myself that I am no more affected by the character, love, and sufferings of my Lord and Savior, and my own peculiar personal obligations to him. However, my views of religion have been such for many years—make me more likely be deemed an Enthusiast than a Stoic.

A mere head-knowledge derived from a system of sentiments, however true in themselves, is, in my judgment, a poor thing. Nor, on the other hand, am I an admirer of those rapturous sallies which are more owing to a warm imagination, than to a just perception of the power and importance of Gospel truth. The Gospel addresses both head and heart; and where it has its proper effect, where it is received as the Word of God, and is clothed with the authority and energy of the Holy Spirit—the understanding is enlightened, the affections awakened and engaged, the will brought into subjection, and the whole soul delivered to its impression—as wax to the seal. When this is the case, when the affections do not take the lead, and push forward with a blind impulse—but arise from the principles of Scripture, and are governed by them, the more warmth the better.

Yet in this state of infirmity, nothing is perfect; and our natural temperament and disposition will have more influence upon our religious sensations, than we are ordinarily aware. It is well to know how to make proper allowances and abatements upon this head, in the judgment we form both of ourselves and of others. Many good people are distressed and alternately elated—by frames and feelings, which perhaps are more constitutional than properly religious experiences.

I dare not tell you, Madam, what I am; but I can tell you what I wish to be. The love of God, as manifested in Jesus Christ, is what I would wish to be the abiding object of my contemplation; not merely to speculate upon it as a doctrine—but so to feel it, and my own saving interest in it, as to have my heart filled with its effects, and transformed into its resemblance; that, with this glorious Exemplar in my view, I may be animated to a spirit of benevolence, love, and compassion, to all around me; that my love may be primarily fixed upon him who has so loved me; and then, for his sake, diffused to all his children, and to all his creatures. Then, knowing that much is forgiven to me—I would be prompted to the ready exercise of forgiveness, if I have anything against anyone. Then I would be humble, patient, and submissive under all his dispensations; meek, gentle, forbearing, and kind to my fellow-worms. Then I would be active and diligent in improving all my talents and powers in his service, and for his glory; and live not to myself—but to him who loved me and gave himself for me!